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There was no grave he dared visit to mourn. Everyone he had ever cared about was either dead, imprisoned by the enemy, or hiding. Hiding like he was from the people who would kill him or imprison him if they found him. This was his life. The bad guys were winning, and there were too many of them.He was alone. They were all alone now. Scattered to the winds not daring to try to find each other. This was the price of trying to save the world. This was the price of caring about the future of Wizarding.They do not even regret the lives they had taken, let alone understand why we we are fighting them. Nobody cares but us. Nobody could see this coming but Him.We had believed in him. I believed in him, and yet, he is gone. Who would lead them now? Please, anybody but me. Don't let the fate of the whole world rest on my shoulders alone.Where is hope now? What is the point of all this if the wrong people win?